Ghost of My Former Self

As the day progressed, Harry found that his day really didn't seem all that different. Certain teachers, namely Snape, still bothered him; classes were tough; and teachers piled loads of homework. But, there were definitely changes. One of the most painstakingly obvious ones was that he and Malfoy actually got along. It was a wonder that Harry wanted an explanation for. Malfoy aside, Defense against the Dark Arts had a different feel to it. Professor Prewett was a fairly liked teacher and brought life into the class. But, he did seem to favor his nephew quite considerably. In fact, Professor Prewett could be likened to Professor Lupin. He was Harry's favorite teacher in that clas by far, probably because Lupin was close to his parents during school. Remus Lupin was the one connection Harry had to the parents he never knew.

While Harry sat beside Malfoy in Prewett's class (his last for the day), he was reminded of that day in third year when Fred and George pulled him aside to give Harry the Maurader's Map. He wanted so desperately to attend the Hogsmeade visits with Ron and Hermione that he was willing to do anything, even accept something from the Weasley twins - a dangerous thing - so that he could. Accepting that from the twins had to be the smartest thing Harry ever could have done. The Mararauder's Map had been created by his father and his friends during their own years at Hogwarts. Harry learned more about his parents than he ever would in a lifetime thanks to Lupin teaching third year. It was something he was truly grateful for.

"Mate, what's with you?" Malfoy asked, jabbing an elbow into Harry's side.

"Nothing," Harry mumbled. "I was just thinking."

"About what?" Malfoy drawled.

"It's doesn't matter," Harry insisted.

The day soon came to a close and it would be just a few more hours until Harry could speak with Dumbledore regarding the odditites of the situation at hand. Harry needed to understand what was going on around him. As if by magic, everything changed overnight. In the hours prior to his meeting with Dumbledore, Harry sat in the Great Hall pondering this dilemma as he ate. He would look over every so often at Ron or Hermione, praying that one of them would come over and confirm Harry's suspicions about all of this being one of Malfoy's elaborate jokes. Neither did as Harry wanted, and his confusion ensued.

At ten minutes to seven, while everyone else was hanging with friends or something, Harry made his way to Albus Dumbledore's office. When he arrived at the stone gargoyle, Harry grinned. "Black Licorce," he stated as the gargoyle statue shifted and left Harry up to Headmaster's office.

It wasn't long before Harry was faced with the half-moon spectacled Headmaster. Dumbledore's back was facing him and he seemed to be staring out the window. "Mr. Potter, so glad you could come."

"Professor? I was hoping you could explain something to me," Harry explained. "Why I woke up this morning to a world I seem to know nothing about."

Dumbledore turned around, placing a hand on his chin. "Well, that does seem to be quite the dilemma," he said, a mischievious smile tugging at his lips. "Come over here, Harry. I want you to look at something."

Harry did as he was asked, a look of confusion on his face. "Sir, what's this about?"

"Look in the window. Tell me what you notice about your reflection," Dumbledore directed.

His gaze shifted from the wise old Headmaster to the window. What Harry saw in the light reflection was merely himself. Whatever the Headmaster saw, Harry could not, and it was bugging him. "Sir, I'm not sure what you want me to see."

"Look closer, boy. Up at your forehead," Dumbledore prodded.

Considering this was the great Albus Dumbledore, Harry humored the old man, already knowing what he would find. But, as he examined his reflection closer, it soon became apparent that there was something missing: his scar, the scar Voldemort gave him that night fifteen years before. "My scar, sir...it's...it's..." Harry stammered, struggling to find the right word, mostly a result of the shock from not seeing the scar.

"Gone?" Dumbledore supplied.

"Well, yes," Harry agreed. Over the years, the scar had become a part of who he was. The first few years in school, everyone reconized who Harry was because of the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. As the years passed, people stopped fawning over Harry and he gradually forgot about the scar. He only ever remembered the constant reminder of him being The Chosen One when Voldemort did something and his scar burned. Without it, he felt naked, empty; there were so many words he could use to describe it. But, one that surprisingly crossed his mind was euphoric. A euphoric feeling has glazed over him, just knowing that he never had to suffer when Voldemort was up to no good. "What does this mean, sir? My scar disappearing, I mean?"

Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes twinking. "We shall save that for another time, my boy, for I would not want you to waste any time that you could easily be spending on your homework. You may go now, Mr. Potter."

Harry curtly nodded and left the Headmaster's office, his finger running over the ara that once held his omnious lightning bolt scar. It's gone, he realized with a slight smile. He never again needed to worry about what Voldemort was doing to make his scar hurt. Despite this, however, something occurred to Harry. What does my scar disappearing have to do with the elaborate prank Malfoy has thrust me into? It seemed as, while he did get a few answers about what was going on, there were about a million other crucial details that Professor Dumbledore left out. He wanted to know everything that was going on, not just part of it.

However, while a part of him wanted to storm back into Dumbledore's office demanding an explanation as to what was going on around him, the other more reasonable, the more rational side of Harry knew that Dumbledore would only tell him what was going on when the time came for him to know. That was the way Dumbledore always was, only revealing things on a need-to-know basis. It was just like with Voldemort's past; he was only ever allowed to know so much at a specific point in time. And so, Harry would just need to wait, as much as he really didn't want to. To uncover the true nature of what was going on around him, waiting was all he could do.